


The Enchanted Snake

by Epivet



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Enchanted Snake, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fantasy, Fluff, Found Family, Gabriel is a jerk, Happy Ending, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Lost Love, Love Is Magic, M/M, Quests, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), There was only one bed (sort of), Unintentional G-rated snondage, but not angst, chosen family, fluff and dramatic tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24979981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epivet/pseuds/Epivet
Summary: Once upon a time, a childless couple adopted a little snake. When the snake was of age, he asked for the prince's hand in marriage. The king scoffed at such an idea and set three tasks before the snake. The snake, of course, performed all three miracles and went to the palace for his prize. When things take an unexpected turn, the prince must go on a journey of his own to find his true love and secure their happily ever after.An AU based on the Italian fairy tale, The Enchanted Snake. Written for the Good AUmens AU Fest.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Lesley | International Express Man/Maud
Comments: 123
Kudos: 201
Collections: Good AUmens AU Fest





	1. Once upon a time

Once upon a time, there lived a barren couple near the Town of Paradiso. Their love for each other knew no bounds, and their only cause for sadness was the failure of their union to produce any children. Every morning, Lesley drove their donkey and cart to the bustling market around the king’s castle. He would pick up orders from the town’s artists and merchants and deliver their goods throughout the kingdom. Every evening he would return home to his beloved wife.

On a cool autumn night, he arrived late, having stopped for firewood on his way back home. Maud met him with a warm mug of mulled wine. As she joined him in unloading the cart, she saw a flash of yellow among the sticks and branches. Peering into the pile, she found a small black snake curling in on itself, hiding among the twigs.

“Oh, you poor thing. I’m afraid we’ve taken you from your family by mistake. Your mother must be so worried about you. Even snakes have their brood, but alas we are alone,” Maud spoke softly to the snake. She reached into the wood pile and gently removed the shivering ball. The yellow eyes holding her gaze were hypnotic and somehow disarming, the scales shiny black like polished obsidian save for a trail of scarlet down his belly. “You must be cold. Come warm yourself by our fire, and Lesley will try to take you home tomorrow.”

Leaving the rest of the firewood for the morning, the couple brought their guest into the cottage and placed him on a blanket near the fire. As Maud turned to her husband to ask after his day, they were startled to hear the snake speak clearly.

“Ssssssince you have no children, be a mother to me instead, and I promissssse you will never repent it, for I will love you as if I were your own sssson.” The snake slithered to the astonished pair and gently rubbed his snout against their legs.

At first Maud was frightened by the snake’s speech, but the kindness of his words reassured her. She looked at Lesley, the unspoken question plain on her face. He could no more deny her wish than a planet could stop itself from orbiting its star. He kissed her forehead gently and nodded.

Maud knelt and stroked the snake’s beautiful scales. “You have a princely heart to make such an offer. I will love you and look after you like a mother, little one. Do you have a name?”

“Anthony,” he whispered.

“Dear Anthony, we will love you and watch over you for the rest of our days,” she cooed as she gathered him in her arms and held him close. Lesley stroked her hair and smiled gratefully at the little snake as he basked in the joy of his wife. 


	2. The king's three tasks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snake grows up and wishes to marry the crown prince. The king requests three impossible tasks in exchange for the prince's hand.

The next day Maud and Lesley collected smooth stones to build the snake a warm house by the fireplace. They shared their meals with him and treated him as kindly as they knew how. The cottage overflowed with love.

During the day, Anthony would explore the forest around the cottage when he was not keeping Maud company. As he settled into his new home, he grew curious about the nearby town and the rounds his father took every day. He found he could slip unnoticed into the cart and observe in secret as Lesley made his deliveries all over the city and countryside. Occasionally, Lesley had deliveries for the palace, which meant asking the guards for permission to enter, driving the cart to a special stable, and then carrying the goods to various parts of the palace. Since Lesley often needed to make several trips, Anthony could hide and watch the palace activity while his father went back and forth.

One day during such a delivery, Anthony hid in a bush in the garden as the palace tutor lectured the young prince and children of nobility. A messenger interrupted the lesson and the tutor asked the children to wait quietly while he attended a matter. As soon as the tutor had left the garden, a large boy stood and stalked over to a much smaller lad seated on a bench near Anthony’s hiding bush.

“You shouldn’t even be allowed to sit with us, Wensleydale. My father owns ten times as much land as yours.”

The smaller boy looked down, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. His voice trembled as he replied, “My father is the king’s most trusted advisor. Wisdom is far more valuable than land, Johnson.”

The response enraged the larger boy and he charged toward the bench. Something in Wensleydale’s words about the value of wisdom resonated deep within Anthony. In a flash, he sprang from the bush, flying over the seated child’s shoulder and hissing as loudly as he could. The bully screamed in terror and tripped over his own feet, landing in a puddle by the path.

Anthony knew his father would be in terrible trouble were he to be caught. He raced to another bush for cover and then carefully moved through the vegetation until he could reach the pile of boxes Lesley had already transported. He glanced back and saw the young prince comforting the small boy. The bully jumped back up and lunged at the child again, and he would have tackled Wensleydale had the young prince not stepped between them, taking the blow in his stead. The prince fell awkwardly, scraping his face against the bush from which Anthony had flown. The gravity of this offense sunk in immediately, and Johnson shook in fear of what punishment might be levied.

The commotion brought numerous people running into the garden, including the tutor. He took stock of the wet boy, the bruised prince, and the shaking child on the bench. He helped the prince to his feet and demanded, “Who dares to hurt our Prince Aziraphale?”

Prince Aziraphale looked dazed as he rubbed his bloodied cheek. 

“Twenty lashes to whoever did this!” the tutor yelled, attempting to frighten a confession out of someone.

The prince blinked several times then appeared to come to his senses. “Thank you for your concern, but rest assured there is no malice here, sir. I wished to walk through the garden until our lesson resumed. Wensleydale saw a snake and warned me. It moved to strike me, and Johnson pushed me safely out of its reach, getting soaked for his trouble. That my injury is superficial is thanks to Wensleydale’s alert mind and Johnson’s valor. I am fortunate my companions have such complementary virtues.”

The crowd dispersed as the chirugeon was summoned to examine the young prince.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that commotion, would you, Anthony?”

Anthony startled at the sound of his father’s voice and looked up guiltily.

“I’m afraid you may be getting a bit too big to sneak along on these outings. Don’t look disappointed, son. Maud will be delighted to spend more time with you.” Lesley surveyed the garden again. “And I suspect Johnson had it coming.”

He ushered Anthony under his cloak and carried him back to the cart.

From then on Anthony traveled with Lesley only for long trips through the countryside, trips where a snake could more easily go unnoticed. Most days, Anthony would join Maud in the garden and kitchen. He would entertain her with fanciful stories of a far-off kingdom. Whenever she asked how he spun such tales, he replied the stories would simply spring forth from his mind as he told them. Maud could not fail to notice Anthony’s aversion to fire and flood any time his fiction strayed near such topics. When pressed on such matters, Anthony would become anxious and tremble. She concluded her poor snake had been witness to unfortunate events before he found his way to them, and that with love and time he would remember what he needed and forget what he did not. 

Over the years, the snake grew bigger and fatter in this love-filled home. He grew to be far too large to accompany Lesley even on lonely rides through the countryside. Coiled on a seat he could see eye to eye with Lesley, who was not a small man. One morning in early autumn, the snake made a request. “Father, I am now of suitable age and wish to marry.”

“I see.” answered Lesley. “I'll do my best to find another snake like yourself and arrange a match between you.”

“Oh no, Father. If I do that, I will have nothing to offer you and Mother. I’d much prefer to marry the King’s son. Then I shall be able to take care of you both for the rest of your days. Tomorrow when you go to the city, demand an audience of the King, and tell him a snake wishes to marry his son.” Anthony made the request without guile, as if a prince were the most natural of husbands for him.

Lesley was no fool; he knew full well he would sound mad, but he had spent his life faithfully delivering goods and messages throughout the kingdom. He couldn’t fail to provide the same service to his son.

The following day Lesley took his usual route to Paradiso. He paused briefly at the market to inform his clients of his mission and beg their pardon for a delay before he could make his rounds. Being his first ever departure from routine, everyone wished the amiable and dependable delivery man good fortune as he approached the palace.

When he arrived, the guards directed him toward his usual delivery stop, but upon hearing his charge for the day, they rerouted the good-humoured man to the group of petitioners waiting for the king. One by one the king’s subjects, peasant and merchant, farmer and tradesman, made their entreaties to the king. Finally, Lesley stepped forward.

“King Gabriel, I have come to inform you that a snake wishes to marry your son.” The tremble in his voice betrayed his initial unease, but as he thought of his son his voice grew calm and strong. “Your Majesty, he is a good snake. Thoughtful and clever. While it would be an unusual union, your son could ask for no better husband.”

The king slapped his knee and guffawed. “He’s magnificent! He’ll make a wonderful jester!”

One of the king’s advisors approached and whispered in his ear. King Gabriel looked aghast at Lesley. “You’re serious? I’ll tell you what. Inform your friend the snake that if he can turn the paths of my garden into pure gold before noon tomorrow, I will let him marry my son.”

“Thank you, your majesty. I will faithfully report your conditions,” replied Lesley. He bowed and left the chambers.

When he returned home he told the snake of the king’s demands. “I’m sorry, Anthony. I’m sure we can find you a lovely snake to be your mate.”

“Oh, Father. I am certain the task is not so difficult,” responded the snake blithely. “Follow me to the stream.”

Once alongside the flowing water, the snake carefully slithered a precise pattern through the mud at the stream’s edge.

“Father, take the stones from the house you and Mother built for me when I was small. At the ends of the royal garden path, place the stones in this exact pattern. When the sun is overhead, the king shall have his gold.”

Lesley was bewildered by the directions but agreed to carry out the plan. That night Maud and Lesley loaded the stones into the cart. Before dawn, he set out for the palace with the stones. The guards again recognized him. Having heard the story of Lesley’s request and King Gabriel’s response, they ushered him to the garden. Lesley placed the stones as directed and then headed to the market for his daily deliveries.

When the sun was directly over the palace, King Gabriel heard a commotion in the gardens. He looked out the window and was blinded by the noon sun’s reflection from the paths. Astonished, he rushed to the garden only to discover the paths were so crowded he required a herald to clear the jam of people. Once the throng had been removed, King Gabriel was astonished to find the paths had moved into a new shape and, more importantly, were now pure gold.

That afternoon, when Lesley returned to the market to pick up additional goods, the merchants greeted him excitedly. Upon hearing the news, Lesley rushed to the palace and was granted an immediate audience.

The king had not expected the snake to succeed. The prospect of a union between his issue and a reptile was repugnant. He would not have his name sullied by such an abomination. He clung to this indignation to smother the unfamiliar uncertainty encroaching on his normally unflappable demeanor. He refused to be unnerved by a peasant.

“Bring him in!” King Gabriel boomed, his voice echoing off the marble floor of the throne room.

“Your majesty, your request has been fulfilled. May we set a date for the marriage?”

“If the snake really wants to marry my son, he must further prove his worth. If he can turn all the fruit in this garden into precious stones by noon tomorrow, I will let him marry my son. Go tell him his task.” King Gabriel then dismissed Lesley with a disdainful look.

When Lesley returned home, he spoke with his son. “I don’t understand how you did it. The paths did turn to gold, Anthony, but I’m afraid the king refused to set a date and instead demanded the fruit of the garden be turned to precious stones by noon tomorrow.”

“Such arrogance,” decried the snake. “Very well. Father, tomorrow morning please take a flask of Mother’s mulled wine and pour it at the base of the fruit trees in the garden. When the sun is overhead, the king shall have his stones.”

“How do you know these tricks, Anthony?” asked Lesley. He looked at his son and wondered for the first time in years about the true origins of this talking snake.

Anthony’s confidence flagged as he considered his father’s question. “I’m not sure, Father. I just know.”

Lesley thought it best not to push further. He gently patted Anthony’s head and again agreed to carry out the plan. Maud prepared a flask of mulled wine that evening. Before dawn, he set out for the palace with the mulled wine. Again, the guards ushered him to the garden. Lesley poured the wine as directed and then headed to the market for his daily deliveries.

This time, King Gabriel instructed the guards to clear the garden before noon. As the sun approached its zenith, Queen Michael and Crown Prince Aziraphale joined the king in the garden. Queen Michael was of a practical mind. While the idea of a snake marrying her son was shocking, she reasoned a snake who could perform miracles upon request would no doubt be an asset. Prince Aziraphale had a kind and gentle soul and a brilliant mind, but having mostly books for companions for his childhood, he was soft-spoken and shy. He was fascinated by the transformation the snake had already performed and was eager to inspect the second should the snake manage another trick.

King Gabriel glanced upward to see that the sun was indeed directly above. “I see only fruit. The snake has failed, and we can forget about this foolishness.”

Slightly disappointed, Prince Aziraphale examined the apple tree near him. “The fruit looks much riper than yesterday. Perhaps we owe at least this bounty to the snake.”

He pulled a beautiful red apple from a branch and offered it to his mother before retrieving a pear for himself. The prince bit into the soft, exquisitely sweet flesh. He had never tasted a more delicious pear and was lost in his enjoyment of it until he heard his mother cry out. He turned to see Queen Michael staring in amazement at her apple.

“Gabriel, look!” she commanded as she lifted the apple up to the king. The apple sparkled in the sunlight. “The apple pips are diamonds!”

Prince Aziraphale looked at his pear and found the seeds were amber. The king pulled a plum from a tree and found a sapphire pit. The peaches held emeralds, the cherries rubies.

Earlier that day, Lesley had made sure to complete his morning rounds quickly so he could wait by the palace at noon. When he overheard the excitement inside the palace, he knew his son had succeeded again. He approached the guards who greeted him as though they had expected him. Soon he once again stood in the throne room facing the king.

“Your majesty, your second request has been fulfilled. May we now set a date for the marriage?”

“We shall see. Tell the snake he must accomplish one final task. My son keeps a herd of sheep with the softest wool in the kingdom. If the snake can turn the fleece of our most prized ram to gold by noon. I will set a date for their union.”

“I will tell him, your majesty,” Lesley replied before bowing and quickly exiting. He went straight home to tell his son of the third and hopefully final request.

“The king will keep his word this time,” Anthony hissed angrily upon hearing the king’s demand. 

Lesley again wondered at what secrets Anthony had kept from him, but he loved his son and he loved Maud too much to refuse anything asked.

“Father, find the blanket you and Mother gave me the day you took me in. In the morning go to the king’s flock and place two threads from the blanket on his ram. By noon, he shall have his golden fleece.”

Lesley let go of any reservations. He may not understand, but he was proud of his clever son. He asked Maud for the blanket and together they pulled two threads from the blanket. That night, as he lay in bed with his beloved wife, he pondered how he would access the ram, but the soothing sounds of Maud’s breath and a gentle rain quieted his mind. He had faith a solution would present itself when needed. Before dawn, he set out for the palace. He asked the guard for permission to enter the sheepfold just outside the palace walls. The guard was happy to assist as King Gabriel’s arrogance had long been an annoyance to all who dealt with him. 

Once at the sheepfold, they were astonished to find Prince Aziraphale dressed in unadorned but well-made clothes. Both dropped to their knees, heads bowed.

“Good gentlemen, arise. We’ve no need of such formality in a pasture,” commanded the prince. “Thank you for accompanying the snake’s friend, guard. You may return to your company. I wish to speak with him.”

The guard stood and bowed before leaving Lesley alone with the prince.

“Tell me, good sir, how you came to have a snake as a friend,” requested Prince Aziraphale.

Lesley was dumbstruck, but as he recalled the night the snake entered their lives, the memory filled him with so much love and joy that it freed his tongue. “He is my son, your highness. My wife and I adopted him many years ago. He has brought us much joy and comfort, and I know he will bring the same to his husband.”

“I see. And I assume you need access to my favourite ram to fulfill my father’s request?”

“Yes, Prince Aziraphale.” Lesley looked at the flock in the muddy fold and wondered which was the correct ram.

“And what will you do to him?” The prince glanced protectively toward the sheep.

“I have two threads to place on him. At noon, his fleece will be gold. I beg your pardon, your highness, but I have guildsmen and merchants waiting for me. With your permission I will fulfill my charge so I do not keep them waiting further.” Lesley’s heart stopped when the prince raised his hand and motioned for Lesley to stay. He was greatly saddened at the thought of failing his son. Then to his amazement, the prince climbed over the railing and walked through the mud to the largest ram. As the animal looked to bolt, the prince slipped his arms across its back and pulled the forelimbs in a well-practiced motion resulting in the ram sitting on its hind quarters docilely.

“Come and place the threads, friend,” Aziraphale called out.

Lesley hopped the fence with a grin as he thought perhaps this prince might be worthy of his dear son. The task being quickly accomplished, the mismatched pair soon returned to the sheep-less side of the barrier.

“Prince Aziraphale, may I ask you a question?” Seeing him nod, Lesley continued, “Why did you come here to help me? Are you not fearful of marrying a snake?”

“I understand the idea is shocking, but I’ve been rather curious about snakes since I was young. After the first miracle, I was intrigued and decided to observe your discussions with my father, in secret, of course. You look joyful and calm when you talk about the snake. No one could have such a demeanor carrying out the orders of a monster. Besides, once I knew it was you who spoke on behalf of the snake, my remaining reservations vanished.”

“Me? I don’t understand. You cannot possibly know of someone as inconsequential as I am,” responded Lesley in confusion.

“Being the son of the king is very restricting. I am not complaining, but friendship grows best among equals. So books became the companions I needed. You have been the deliverer of my greatest comforts since I learned to read. You are correct that I did not recognize you, but yesterday one of my former tutors revealed the identity of the man who speaks for a snake. I must believe that you are yet again bringing me what I most need. I knew my only chance at receiving such a gift would require your success. So here I am. At your service, if you will,” the prince concluded, smiling and with mirth in his eyes.

Lesley returned the smile, relieved to find that this prince was indeed worthy of his son. “I hope to wish you both every happiness soon. If your father is finally satisfied.”

“Do not worry on that account. He is too vain of his reputation to risk people doubting his honour. He will not renege again.”

“Then I look forward to seeing you at noon, but now I must beg your leave, Your Highness.”

“Until noon then,” replied the prince with a nod.

Lesley hurriedly made his deliveries in time to return to the palace and await news of the ram. Down the road, peasants and tradesmen scurried to make way for a cart. Much to Lesley’s surprise, Prince Aziraphale himself was driving the cart, the now golden–fleeced ram bleating conversationally. Lesley knelt as the others around him did so, but he looked up in time to see the prince wink at him. A few minutes later a guard summoned him. Lesley soon found himself before the king, queen, and prince.

“The snake has accomplished my final challenge. I am a man of honour. My son will marry this snake one week from today. Bring him to us the evening before the nuptials so they may make their acquaintances.” King Gabriel had the look of a sheep cornered in a pen, resigned to his fate. Queen Michael was an expressionless cipher. Prince Aziraphale looked similarly impassive save for a flash of a sly grin when his eyes met Lesley’s.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lesley bowed low and exited quickly before his joy could displease the king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read the book, Greasy Johnson is the Dowlings’ biological son. He leads the rival gang to Adam's The Them.


	3. Love's labour's lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The snake arrives at the palace to claim his prize, but all does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to the wonderful @LeilaKalomi and @Liquid_Lyrium for betaing!

Six days later, Anthony awoke in excitement, eager to meet his future husband that evening. The little family had a celebratory breakfast of berries from their fields, honey from their beehive, and cream from their cow. Anthony spent the day stacking two cords of green wood for seasoning. He had already repaired the back door, put fresh thatching on the roof, harvested and stored the summer hay in the barn, and had a stern conversation with the local fox about the hens being under his protection even in his absence. 

After supper, Anthony prepared to leave with Lesley for the palace. As she could offer her son no fancy dress, Maud produced a pillow covered in lush black velvet and trimmed with scarlet ribbon. It would be the first time Anthony sat in the front of the cart, in full view of passers by. Seeing Lesley with the reins in hand and Anthony sitting alertly by his side, a tear graced her cheek.

“This is not goodbye, dear Mother. I will take care of you for the rest of your days. Today, I leave you to meet my husband, but we will be together soon.” Anthony then licked the tear from her cheek with an affectionate serpentine kiss. A moment later, Lesley and Anthony started down the road to Paradiso.

When they arrived, they found the streets empty. Despite their respect and affection for Lesley, the townspeople were terrified by the monstrous notion of a magical snake claiming their gentle crown prince. Upon their arrival at the palace, Lesley and Anthony were brought to the garden where Prince Aziraphale was waiting.

“Good evening, friend. I am afraid the king and queen are, uh, otherwise engaged.” Aziraphale was grateful when Lesley acknowledged the obvious lie with a shrug and smile. He now stared at the fearsome snake. His eyes widened as he took in his immense size, but he remained calm. “Please leave us so that my betrothed and I may make our acquaintances.”

Lesley placed an affectionate hand on the snake’s head and looked to his son for agreement.

“Thank you, Father. Fear not. All will be as it should. I will see you and Mother sssoon,” Anthony hissed.

With a mix of paternal pride and protectiveness, Lesley left the garden.

Once they were alone, Anthony stared at the prince, expecting him to flee. The prince met his gaze cautiously. Suspicious such calm could be an act, part of a trap, Anthony slid forward, and in a flash he had wound his body around the Prince’s. He stared deeply into the blue eyes mere inches from his yellow ones. He tensed in anticipation of the king’s men leaping forward to protect the prince. To his surprise, no such disturbance materialized. 

Anthony loosened his coils slightly and examined his prize. Aziraphale’s fluffy blond hair floated about his head like a halo. The prince was warm and soft against his scales. Anthony felt an inexplicable urge to bury his snout in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck.

“You need not restrain me, snake, for I am yours already,” Prince Aziraphale whispered, equally enthralled by his betrothed. “You are the most beautiful creature I have even seen. Do you have a name?”

“Anthony.”

“Anthony, how lovely. I am Aziraphale, Crown Prince of Paradiso, and soon to be your husband. But I believe we have met before, in this very garden. Was it not you who protected young Wensleydale from Johnson so many years ago?” Feeling the coils further loosen against his arms, Aziraphale used his new freedom of movement to explore the ebony scales with tentative strokes.

“You remember me? From so long ago? Surely, I was but a blur.”

“You were a beautiful flash of black and red. So very brave, Anthony. Surely, you knew if Johnson had caught you, he would have ended you.”

Anthony wriggled uncomfortably. “I am not brave. I hated his words, and the other boy looked so small. I acted impulsively, selfishly, without thinking of what would happen to my father if I were found. You were the brave one. Such a clever lie you told to protect both aggressor and victim. You could have seen him punished, but instead you created an alliance that could not be broken, for neither would call the prince a liar.”

“Not as clever as it might appear. That kindness curtailed any true friendship by putting them in my debt,” explained Aziraphale, his countenance tainted not by sorrow so as much resignation.

Anthony inhaled sharply. “I didn’t know I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize for your sense of justice; it is a noble trait. It was a difficult lesson at the time, but an inevitable one. The best I can hope for is concord between my companions, for there will always be a chasm between the heir apparent and his associates. Still, I treasure what peace I can sow.”

“Paradiso is fortunate. You will be a wise ruler.”

“I do not wish to rule at all.” His breath hitched as he looked again into the golden eyes. He should have been frightened, but his heart raced with exhilaration. “ I would happily live quietly, alone, with only the contents of my studiolo as an expression of my privilege. Or so I thought until today.”

“I suppose the king would not be pleased with such a choice,” Anthony offered sympathetically.

“No, he would not. He is convinced there will be a great war, which we will win, or course. I don’t know why a war would be predestined or why we would welcome it. Our people would pay such a terrible cost, and even distanced from them by my rank, I do love them. Regardless, in preparation for this conflict, he is forever building strategic alliances. No one is interested in the arts or science, and no one speaks their true mind.” Aziraphale’s shoulder slumped as he thought of the obsequious Lord Sandalphon or the unimaginative Lady Uriel.

“The political maneuverings at court are indeed hell on earth,” muttered Anthony.

The prince raised an eyebrow. “You speak as one familiar with this particular hell.”

When Anthony offered no response, the prince simply added it to his rapidly lengthening list of mysteries to unravel. Who was this snake? How did he know of life at court? How did he perform the miracles? Just as he could spend countless days exploring ancient texts, he was certain he could spend a lifetime coaxing Anthony’s secrets from him. A large raindrop landed on his nose, drawing him from his reverie. A second drop striking his hand provided a last warning before the skies unleashed a cold, drenching rain. Within moments Anthony was shivering while Aziraphale remained mostly dry, shielded from the deluge by serpentine coils.

“My dear, if we stay in the garden you will surely catch your death of cold and leave me a widower before we can even marry. Have I earned enough trust for you to follow me to my studiolo?”

Aziraphale had indeed won Anthony’s trust, but the king was another matter altogether. In the garden, Anthony could surveil his surroundings, but in the hallways of the palace he had no such security. The rain fell impossibly harder, and his cold-blooded body was now shaking uncontrollably. He had always hated the rain although he could not quite remember why. Finally he surrendered. He nodded and unwound himself from Azraphale’s body, the loss of the warmth chilling him further.

“Thank you for trusting me, my dear. Come along.” Aziraphale walked briskly from the garden, pausing only to be certain Anthony was following. The hallways of the palace were empty, the only sounds coming from the storm outside. The prince tutted to himself, bemused by the abject terror the servants and even nobility had exhibited before Anthony’s arrival; this snake was no monster. Finally they arrived at the prince’s studiolo near his chamber. He held the door open as Anthony slid in, leaving a damp trail behind him.

Anthony basked in the warmth radiating from the fireplace as he considered Aziraphale’s retreat for study and contemplation. The room was suitably impressive for a crown prince, with masterful paintings and sculptures throughout the space. More interestingly, the room housed a breathtaking number of scrolls and tomes, the outward expression of the prince’s true self. He stared intently at the piles as the ghost of an unpleasant memory nipped at his tail. He startled when Aziraphale placed a soft blanket on his coiled body.

“I’m sorry, Anthony. I didn't mean to frighten you. I thought you would warm more quickly if you were dry,” he said softly, evaluating whether he had overstepped. In the storm darkened room, his hair shimmered in the fire’s glow. Anthony felt something deep inside him unclench. 

When he had first told his father he wished to marry the prince, his principle concern was providing comfort to his now aging parents. The memory of the kind and clever child in the garden had given him hope the prince would be tolerable if not likeable. Their brief time together had kindled hope the match might be far better.

“It’ssssssss good, angel,” Anthony sighed under the prince's soothing touch.

“Angel?” snortled Aziraphale before turning back to gently drying Anthony.

“You’re kind. Protective. Your love for the people of Paradiso is so great that the glory and spoils of war hold no temptation. Father told me how protective you were of your flock, like a guardian angel.”

Aziraphale laughed again, a warm melodious sound that echoed off the stone floor. Satisfied he had soaked up the worst of the rain, he tossed the blanket aside and opened a trunk to produce a wool carpet. After unrolling it near the fire, he retrieved a tray of wine and bread from a table and then sat down, tilting his head in invitation as he poured the wine into two cups. Anthony eagerly glided off the cold floor to join his betrothed.

“You have an impressive collection here,” observed Anthony. “It reminds me of something... “

His voice trailed off as his eyes darted around the room before fixing on an ornate map of the kingdom and the mountains beyond. The prince followed his line of sight and stood to fetch the map. He returned and spread it out before them.

“Have you traveled beyond Paradiso? Are you even from here?” asked the prince.

“I don’t remember much before Father found me. I don’t know how I came to be in Paradiso. Those mountains though….” He paused to point with his snout. “They seem familiar.”

“Oh, surely, you aren’t from Terra di Braci! No one has seen a soul from there since the darkness fell.”

Suddenly, images of fire and destruction filled Anthony’s mind. Terror-induced screams burned his ears. Smoke filled his lungs as he gasped for air. Pain exploded down his spine. The next moment, he was drowning.

“Anthony. Anthony!”

Anthony blinked in confusion. He tasted the air, anticipating the putrid smell of charred bodies, but finding only the homey aroma of the fireplace.

“Anthony, come back to me!” pleaded the prince.

Slowly, the nightmare released hold of his senses.

“Oh, my dear. What terrible circumstances brought you here?” Aziraphale asked softly, stroking the black scales of his head. Anthony heard someone wail and was shocked to realize it was he. With that gentle question, the damn had broken. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Anthony and held him close as he wept, sobs wracking his body, until the storm had passed.

“I remember the darkness falling. I asked again and again what was happening, but my tutor would only hush me. Then there was fire and the sound of horses and soldiers. And then… then…. I can’t remember. Later, there was so much smoke, and the rain flooded down the foothills. I was cold and small. And drowning.” Anthony fell silent, straining to recall more. “That’s all I remember before ending up in my father's cart.”

“Something powerful must have been protecting you, Anthony. Is that how you were able to fulfill my father’s requests? How are you so full of magic?”

Anthony laughed bitterly. “Gentle prince, I have no such powers. I know of only one source of magic, true love. My mother and father love each other very much, and that is powerful magic. I performed these miracles by using items from the night they found me and extended their love to me.”

“You are a wondrous creature.” Aziraphale leaned forward and bestowed a gentle kiss on Anthony’s snout before reaching into his pouch to retrieve a ring. “I have a wedding gift for you. The stones are the amber pips from the pear I was eating when I discovered your second miracle. We can have something more impressive made from dearer stones, but I wanted you to have something from the moment you imprinted on my heart. I’m not sure how you might wear it, but for tonight may I slip it on this cord and tie it round your neck?”

Speechless, Anthony nodded. The prince carefully secured the ring and cord on him. 

“They rather match your magnificent eyes,” the prince observed with near reverence. Anthony looked away, uncomfortable with such unfiltered adoration. He affected a yawn to break the spell.

“Dearest, you’re exhausted. Fortify yourself with the bread and wine while I fetch some more blankets,” encouraged Aziraphale.

He soon returned with a second carpet and more blankets. He then lay down and pulled the tired snake close. “You are safe now, Anthony. Tomorrow we will wed, but for now, rest.”

The prince felt the snake’s breath slow, his sinuous body relax. He marveled that Providence had provided him such an extraordinary creature, a being of beauty and mystery who spoke to him with intelligence and not servility. He had long resigned himself to an inevitable marriage of political convenience that would provide neither true companionship nor love. The desolate loneliness that had been locked away in his subconscious since childhood was suddenly palpable as it was excised. The prince shed happy tears as Anthony drowsily wrapped his tail around the prince’s leg. They soon were both fast asleep.

In the middle of the night, the prince awoke to pounding on his study door.

“Aziraphale, open up!” shouted King Gabriel. “He’s eaten him, I’m sure. I never should have kept my word!”

Aziraphale opened his eyes groggily, trying to orient himself. As he stirred, the blankets shifted and to his astonishment, the snake was gone and in his place was a lovely auburn-haired young man naked but for a large snake skin, freshly shed, alongside him. 

“Anthony!” joyfully exhaled Aziraphale.

“Angel?” The young man turned sleepily toward the prince. He began to push himself up before halting in confusion. He stared at his hands and shook his fingers in shock. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arm around the now man-shaped body beside him and pulled him close. Tucking a long strand of red hair behind Anthony’s ear, the prince whispered, “I knew you were full of magic.” He then leaned in, cupped Anthony’s chin to tilt his face toward his own, and….

King Gabriel burst through the door in a rage. He crossed the room in a moment and seized the snakeskin, tossing it into the fire. Before he could even turn back to where he expected to find a giant snake, Anthony screamed in agony. Aziraphale watched in horror as the beautiful young man beside him vanished in a puff of dust and feathers. In his place, a raven. The bird extended its shiny black wings and flew frantically around the small space before hurling itself against a window, shattering the glass. In an instant, he was gone. Only the cord, but not the ring, remained as evidence of his existence.

“Father, what have you done?” asked Aziraphale in anguish.

“Saved you from that monster, you foolish boy,” argued the king.

“He was no monster; he was wonderful. How could you! He would never harm me!” Aziraphale’s indignation and sorrow quickly gave way to sober determination. “You hurt him, Father. I must find him.”

“You’ll do no such thing, Aziraphale. The snake has fled. We are free of the promise. It will be as if he never existed. I command it,” proclaimed King Gabriel, holding his son’s broken heart in disgust. “You shall stay in your chamber until you are ready to behave as a prince should.”

The prince tamped down his anger and retreated to his chamber to mourn the love he had so cruelly lost.


	4. Aziraphale's quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Aziraphale encounters danger as he searches for his lost love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long delay. Real life has been unpredictable; that's why I didn't commit to a posting schedule like I did for my romcom. I plan to have the last chapter up before the end of the month. Thank you for your patience and kind words! As always, many thanks to the fantastic @LeilaKalomi and @Liquid_Lyrium for betaing. Thank you to @saretton for help in naming the locations in Italian to honor the source material!

Alone in his chamber, the prince reflected on his joy, his grief, and his father’s words, “stay in your chamber until you are ready to behave as a prince should.” A prince should be fearless and faithful. He should honour his promises, and he had promised himself to Anthony. Resolved to behave as a prince should, he set about equipping himself for the quest to find his beloved. He retrieved the unfinished wine, a scroll on healing, and the ringless cord from the studiolo and then slipped discreetly through the palace to the royal laundry. Keeping only his sword and purse, Aziraphale tossed aside his finery and dressed in purloined plain clothes. He paused in the garden to pick some fruit for provisions and then left the palace in stealth.

The prince moved quietly to the market where a few merchants were stocking their stalls. Hiding his face with the hood of his cloak, he posed as a trader looking for a delivery service to transport his goods. Happy for their friend to have new business, the merchants told the prince of Lesley and the road he took to town every morning. Aziraphale thanked them and then started down the road, hoping to intercept Anthony’s father.

The sun had not quite risen when he saw a cart in the distance. Seeing Lesley’s friendly countenance, the prince broke into a run, waving at the delivery man. Lesley was quite surprised to discover the commoner waving to him was in fact the prince. Aziraphale recounted the unfortunate events of the early morning and asked if Anthony had returned home. Lesley shook his head sadly.

“Oh, dear. Do you have any idea where he would go?” entreated the prince.

Lesley swallowed down his growing fear for his son. “I know not. We can search together.”

“No, friend. My father will be angry if he believes you have helped me. You must go to town like any other day and be shocked when you hear the tale of my departure and the disappearance of Anthony. I promise I will not rest until I find him. Tell no one you have seen me.” 

“Take this with you, prince?” Lesley lifted the pillow Maud had made for Anthony. “It was sewn with a mother’s love and will bring you luck.”

Aziraphale placed the pillow in his purse. He bid Lesley farewell and continued down the road, away from Paradiso and toward the mountains. Toward Terra di Braci. 

Hours later, the prince reached the river marking the edge of the kingdom. Behind him lay all things familiar and safe, before him the unknown. For the first time, his courage flagged. A passing comment about the mountains looking familiar was his only compass, a joyful moment his sustenance. As doubt began to seep into his heart, he heard the gurgling croaks of ravens coming from across the river. Hope banished doubt as he hurried across the bridge.

Once on the other side, he left the road to approach the ravens roosting in a tall oak tree.

“Anthony? Anthony!” Aziraphale shouted. The birds called loudly to each other, but none answered the prince.

“You’re not from around here,” croaked a grotesque toad who appeared suddenly, as if he had sprung forth from the earth itself.

The prince was startled first by the voice, then more so by the identity of the preternatural speaker. The creature looked nothing like the friendly bright green tree frogs in the palace gardens. This muddy yellow-bellied toad had numerous warts with ugly raised swirls and a sinister air about him. Where Anthony was disarming, this creature left a knot in the pit of the prince's stomach.

“I am indeed a traveler. Are you from this land?” Aziraphale responded guardedly, attempting to gauge the stranger.

“Yes, for as long as I have been a toad,” he answered, laughing malevolently. “Why did you leave the path to visit the ravens’ roost? Do you not have ravens whence you come?”

“I found their calls intriguing. I sought a moment’s enjoyment of their babble before resuming my journey.” Aziraphale took a step back toward the road, eager to leave the hideous creature’s company.

“If you only understood, as I do, what these birds are saying, your interest would be even greater,” tempted the toad.

Aziraphale stopped his progress toward the road. “Please, tell me, what do they say?”

“It is quite the amazing tale of the misfortunes of a beautiful young man, whom a dark power turned into a snake. He fell in love with a charming Prince and returned to his human form as he slept in the Prince’s embrace.” The toad circled Aziraphale, judging the impact of each detail as it hit its mark. “The king forced his way into the room and burnt the snake’s shed skin, whereupon the young man changed into the likeness of a raven. He broke a pane of glass in trying to fly out of the window and wounded himself so badly that the doctors despair of his life.”

For the second time that day, the prince experienced both joy and grief in a single moment. “Pray tell, where might he be?”

“Why do you ask, your highness?” The toad’s tone now dripped with undisguised malice.

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably and forced a laugh. “I am but a simple traveler seeking something lost. I think I should be on my way. Fare thee well, toad.”

“Oh, surely you are tired from your journey. And the road is dangerous at night. Bandits roam these parts. You should rest here, traveler. Sleep.” The toad stared intently, waiting for his soporific words to take effect. Aziraphale struggled against the fatigue overwhelming his limbs. In this fugue state, he lay down on the ground, pulling Maud’s pillow from his purse to rest his head. He was dimly aware of the toad’s maniacal cackle as sleep overtook him.

Several hours later, Aziraphale awoke to an argument. He found his hands and feet were bound. By the light of the moon he could see a lizard had joined the toad and they were rummaging through his purse. He closed his eyes and affected a deep slumber as he strained to hear the conversation.

“Not much of value here, Hastur. You’re sure he’s the prince?” challenged the lizard.

“That’s the fabled flaming sword of Paradiso, Ligur. Do you not trust me?” argued the toad.

“Of course, I don’t. Besides, it’s not flaming now,” the lizard replied. “He should be worth a great deal to King Gabriel if you are right. Odd to find him here. Why did he come to Terra di Braci?”

“He’s looking for the enchanted snake that the ravens were discussing. A pointless quest as that fugitive must surely be near death. Even if we hadn’t waylaid the prince, he would never have reached him in time.”

Aziraphale's chest clenched, strangling his lamentations. As he silently prayed that Anthony would recover, a tear slid down his cheek onto the pillow.

“At least share the wine and fruit with me,” grumbled the lizard.

“Fine,” muttered the toad. He passed the wine to the lizard and took a cherry for himself. The lizard drank deeply as the toad swallowed the cherry. The next moment found the lizard gasping, black froth spilling from his lips. The toad jerked its head back as he clawed at his neck, unable to breathe. The prince watched in shock as both collapsed and convulsed for several minutes until their bodies stilled. He twisted his wrists and found the ropes had loosened slightly, though it still took an hour to weaken the rope such that he could free his hands. He retrieved his sword to free his ankles. 

Cautiously, he approached the bodies. The toad appeared to have choked on the ruby stone of the cherry. The lizard had dissolved into a black viscous puddle. Flies had already begun to swarm around the putrid bodies. 

Aziraphale wondered at his miraculous escape before remembering Anthony’s words. _I know of only one source of magic, true love._ He recalled the cherry had been a miracle from Anthony. They had shared the wine in his studiolo. Lesley had said the pillow was made with a mother’s love and would bring him luck.

“Anthony, I believe you were right about the magic,” Aziraphale whispered to himself as he collected his belongings. He looked toward the road and considered the best course of action. The poor prince feared he would never guess Anthony’s homeland if he were not from Terra di Braci.

“I know where the raven went, prinzzzze,” buzzed a fly that had just finished inspecting Ligur’s and Hastur’s bodies.

“Who’s there?” demanded Aziraphale, assuming a fighting posture. 

“Me!” The fly flew directly in front of the prince’s face to stare at him.

“How do you know where he is, fly?”

“I heard them discussing it. We animals can understand each other. Only people are deaf to all but their own kind. I can take you there. The life of a fly is short and boring. I would enjoy a little adventure during my brief time,” explained the fly in as sweet a voice as it could manage.

“Lead on then, friend.” While Aziraphale was wise enough to be suspicious of the fly, he had no alternative design to find his love.

“The raven flew to the city of Fieramaggio on the coast of le Acque delle Domande. We must pass through Terra di Braci, although we can stick to the path around its edge for your safety. If you walk through the night, we shall be there by morning.”

The prince nodded and began the march through the rocky and uneven terrain, praying Anthony would be alive when they reached him. The road had clearly seen little traffic since the Darkness fell. Even with the moonlight unobscured by clouds, Aziraphale struggled to keep the fly in his view. Fearful of losing sight of it altogether, he began to ask about the surrounding lands, tracking the fly by its voice.

“Do you know what happened when the Darkness fell many years ago, fly?”

“That’zzzz an interesting tale, indeed. A crow told me that the Dark Lord was a noble man of Paradiso, but he offended King Gabriel and was cast out. Furious at the insult, he trveled with his henchmen to the mountain to establish his own domain. The people who lived in the shadow of the mountain fled or died. Well, for the most part. Now tell me what you know of this creature who is snake and man and bird.”

The prince weighed his word carefully before speaking. “I know only that he was hurt unfairly and I am obligated to help him if I can.”

“You must know the task is hopeless. What can you possibly bring to fight such dark magic?”

The prince shuddered at the fly’s words. Hoping to redirect the conversation to something less sinister and more useful, he asked, “And what do you know of our destination?”

“Fieramaggio is a thalassocracy filled with artists and stargazers,” the fly buzzed in disgust. “Annoying, but too paltry a lot to be worth our while.”

The prince found little comfort in those words either. He resigned himself to the silence and listened carefully for the telltale buzz to provide him direction.

After hours of walking, they finally reached the crest overlooking le Acque delle Domande. The prince could just barely make out the city at the water’s edge.

“Anthony, please wait just a little longer. I will be by your side soon,” Aziraphale pleaded under his breath. The fly’s grating laughter startled him.

“He’zzzz a fool and so are you, Prinzzze,” the fly gloated. “You cannot heal him. He waz enchanted by the Dark Lord, just like all who survived His arrival. Those who accepted Him az their ruler regained control of their animal bodiez. Those who did not lost the ability to speak or think; they died as the animalz they had become. Your snake was the only one who escaped the Dark Lord but kept the mind and speech of man. Until he performed his miracles, no one knew he existed.”

“How was he the only one?” began Aziraphale before grasping the implication of the fly’s words. “What do you mean no one knew he existed?”

“All of us who live still have sworn allegiance to our Dark Lord. We never would have known about him but for the story of a talking snake who could perform miraclezzz. Too bad your father mortally wounded him. Our Dark Lord waz looking forward to interrogating him. I thought I might learn more from you, but you clearly know nothing. You are useless to us.”

Aziraphale’s body shook with rage as he swatted futilely at the fly. The fly’s laughter mocked him as it easily avoided the prince’s flailing hand. A moment later, the buzzing gave way to silence. The prince turned toward the city on the water and rushed down the ridge.


	5. Love's labour's won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale must use his wits and his love to rescue his betrothed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter has gotten a bit more complicated than my original outline, so I'm breaking it into two. The actual final chapter (chapter six) will be up next week. Thank you so much for your support and kind words!
> 
> Many thanks to the fantastic @LeilaKalomi and @Liquid_Lyrium for betaing. Thank you to @saretton for more help with the Italian name selection!

The sun’s morning rays sparkled against le Acque delle Domande as Aziraphale surveyed Fieramaggio from the city’s center. Fearful of revealing himself to an unknown enemy, the prince hesitated to ask the townspeople if they had seen a talking raven or snake. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the street, triggering a growl from Aziraphale’s empty stomach. Relieved to find the toad and lizard had not removed the handful of coins in his purse, the prince followed the scent to a crowded bakery on the main thoroughfare.

Inside the bakery, he found an odd assembly of customers, their dress and accents revealing varied homelands. He hoped the diversity would grant him anonymity in the crowd.

“You’re new to town.”

Aziraphale flinched, recalling the toad’s similar greeting the previous day. His hand moved covertly toward his sword as he turned slowly. A woman his mother’s age was smiling at him. Her brilliantly red hair framed a kind face.

“What brings you to our fair city?”

Despite her warmth, the prince was cautious. “I am a traveler seeking something lost. Are you from Fieramaggio?”

“Yes, as much as anyone is,” she laughed. “Most of the Fieramaggio’s citizens are at sea, and many of the people in town are visiting from afar. Fieramaggio is like seawater; you can never draw the same cup twice. The contents always change.”

The prince wondered how he could find Anthony in such an ever-changing cup.

The woman’s brow furrowed as the prince’s countenance fell. “I’m Tracy, my dear. And you look like you are carrying a heavy burden. Where are you staying?

“Oh, I’m…I’m… ” stammered Aziraphale as he grasped for a pseudonym. “I’m Iaso. I have only just arrived this morning. I suppose I should seek lodgings once I’ve eaten.”

“Iaso? Like the goddess of recuperation? Are you a healer?” Tracy asked hopefully.

“Ummm…” Aziraphale hated to lie to her, but perhaps such an identity could lead him to Anthony. He hedged, “I’m not very accomplished.”

“Oh! Surely Providence brought you here. Would you examine my cousin? He is just returned to us after seven long years, but he is very ill.”

The prince’s chest could hardly contain his heart. He clenched his thigh in a bruising grip before carefully responding, “Seven years is a long time. Was he at sea?”

“No. He disappeared when the Darkness fell and we all thought he had perished. By some miracle he returned to us yesterday, but he looked dreadfully ill and quickly fell into a deep sleep from which no one can rouse him.”

“But he lives still!” exclaimed Aziraphale joyfully. “I mean, how wonderful for you after such a tragic tale. Of course, I will help in any way I can.”

“I’ll take you to him now.” Tracy called out to the baker who motioned her over. A moment later she thrust a loaf into Aziraphale’s hands and guided him back into the busy street. She marched purposefully, causing all other pedestrians to scatter before her. Aziraphale rushed to follow in her wake.

When she stopped abruptly, Aziraphale nearly walked into her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him through a doorway so quickly he barely had time to read the sign, “I Commercianti Divini.” Several heads swiveled from their bookkeeping in surprise. Tracy continued without breaking stride, tugging Aziraphale up a narrow staircase, down the hall, and into a dark room. She finally released his hand and went to draw the curtains. The sunlight revealed a bed and Anthony’s motionless body.

Aziraphale cried out in the terrible mix of joy and grief that had filled the past day and a half. He hastened to wipe the tears from his eyes as he rushed to his beloved. He took Anthony’s cold hand in his own and knelt by his side, trying to calm the flood of emotion in his heart. As he ran his thumb over Anthony’s bony knuckles, he noticed the amber ring he had given his betrothed. Tracy observed the tableau surreptitiously and smiled.

“What do you think, dearie?” Tracy asked gently.

Aziraphale exhaled slowly and opened his purse to disguise his trembling hands. In all the excitement, he had forgotten the pillow. He carefully lifted Anthony’s head to slip it under him. 

“Best to, uh, elevate his head a bit. I’m afraid his condition will require some research.” He then pulled out the scroll on healing. “I’ll start right away.”

“I’ll leave you to your study then. I’ll send up some cheese and drink to go with the loaf.” Tracy squeezed his shoulder then slipped out of the room.

As soon as he heard the door shut, Aziraphale threw his arm around Anthony and let out a stifled sob. Anthony remained still save for the almost imperceptible motion of his chest rising and falling. Aziraphale brushed away the auburn hair, held his breath, and kissed Anthony’s forehead. Seeing no reaction, he timorously moved to his pale lips. The prince’s spirits sank when nothing happened.

“Foolish, really. To think I could mend this with a kiss. I’m so sorry, Anthony. I don’t know how, but I’ll heal you. I promise.” He unrolled the scroll along the bed and began to read in earnest while carding a hand through Anthony’s hair. He barely registered the sound of Tracy returning with the tray of food.

Lost in the scroll, the prince was startled hours later by a sharp voice in the hallway.

“A chiurgeon can’t help him! He’s probably sticking leeches on him as we speak!”

The door burst open. A spectacled woman stomped toward him, regarding him with equal parts anger and suspicion. Tracy followed a moment later.

When the younger woman opened her mouth as if to speak, the prince braced himself for the onslaught. Instead she looked down at his hands and gaped.

“Is that the Nice and Accurate Spells of Healing?” she asked in a stunned voice.

“Yes, by Agnes Nutter. I think his illness is an enchantment,” offered Aziraphale.

“I’m sorry, Tracy,” she offered meekly before turning back to the prince. “I’m Anathema, Anthony’s cousin. And those are my grandmother’s grandmother’s words. The only true record of magical healing.”

“I’m A… ah, Iaso,” the prince stammered. “Tracy told me of your cousin and asked for my help.”

“I’m sorry about the yelling. I thought you would be another idiot. You’re right; dark magic is the source of his condition. And Agnes is likely our only hope. How did you come to have such a valuable document?” As Anathema eyed his plain clothes, Aziraphale felt her distrust return.

“Forgotten amongst other scrolls and tomes passed down through my family. I don’t think anyone in generations knew its worth.” He was glad he could actually speak honestly to her. “I confess I don’t know what much of this means, but I want to help.”

Anathema stared at him in silence for several moments. “You’re not telling me everything, but I believe you want to help my cousin. Why? Are you hoping for a reward from Fieramaggio’s founding family?”

“Founding family?” exclaimed Aziraphale.

Anathema visibly relaxed. “You can keep your secrets, Iaso. I believe your motivation is not extortionary. I am familiar with some of Agnes’s spells; my scroll is incomplete. We can work together. What have you tried so far?”

“Nothing yet. I wasn’t sure where to start.”

“I can help with that. Tell no one, but he returned as a raven before assuming this form. I fear he does not wake because the transformation was incomplete.”

For the next two days, Aziraphale and Anathema worked methodically through the scroll, making notes on any alchemy that could prove useful. Early on the third day, Aziraphale shouted in excitement. Anathema woke from the chair where she had fallen asleep late the night before.

“I think I’ve found it! It’s a spell to counter a metamorphosis enchantment!”

Anathema joined him and examined the list of material components. “Amber and a silk cord. Well, it’s short but where can we find the amber?”

Aziraphale lifted Anthony’s hand and beamed at her. “I believe these stones are amber. And I have a silk cord in my purse!”

“Oh dear. Did you read the rest? The silk cord ties together a hero and the victim of the enchantment. The spell-caster must read the incantation to the hero and the enchanted. Bound together by the silk cord, they inhale the smoke from the amber as it burns. I don’t understand this part, but we only have as long as the amber burns to coax his humanity back to his body and ground it.”

“What are we waiting for?” Aziraphale pulled the cord from his purse and turned back to the ring.

“Iaso, you can’t just jump into a spell. We need to figure out the middle part. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to connect with his soul.”

“I’ll figure it out,” countered Aziraphale firmly.

“What do you mean  _ you’ll _ figure it out? I’m his cousin!”

“I’m no sorcerer though. You’re Agnes’ descendant. Surely you’re the better choice to cast the spell,” argued the prince, more loudly.

“I think he’s right, Anathema.”

Both turned to see Tracy in the doorway. She continued, “It had been so quiet up here. When I heard Iaso shout, I worried Anthony’s condition had worsened. Anathema, you should cast the spell, and Iaso should bring Anthony’s humanity back.”

“We only have one chance,” argued Anathema as she continued to examine the text. “If we fail, both of you will be lost.”

“If I fail, I’ll be lost anyway,” Aziraphale said under his breath before noticing Tracy staring at him intently.

“Anathema, dear, you must trust me on this.” Tracy’s voice was kind but she would clearly brook no dissent.

With those words, the matter was closed. Anathema studied the incantation while Aziraphale pried the amber pips from the ring. Tracy returned with a brazier to burn the amber. 

Soon, all was in place. Anathema stood on one side of the bed. On the other, sat the prince. Tracy bound fast Aziraphale’s and Anthony’s hands with the silk cord. She then added the amber pips to the brazier. As the pine-scented smoke wafted over them, Anathema solemnly intoned Agnes’s words.

Aziraphale inhaled deeply and gazed lovingly at Anthony, hoping to find a connection. Instead, his body felt heavy, his mind foggy. Remembering the toad’s spell, the prince panicked that he would lose the chance to rescue his beloved. Try as he might, a dull stupor overtook him and his head fell against Anthony’s side.

The prince woke to find himself in a fog-filled forest of ancient pine trees. He looked in horror at his unbound hand before calling out, “Anthony! Where are you!”

The answer came in a soft hiss. Aziraphale could see the faintest outline of a serpentine body just out of reach. He stepped toward it, but the image receded in equal measure. He felt the terror rolling off the creature.

“Anthony, it’s me. You’re safe. Just come with me.” He again moved toward the serpent, but this time it hissed and threatened to strike. Aziraphale retreated to his former position. He then remembered the instruction to coax his humanity back.

“Anthony, this is not your true form. You are from Fieramaggio.”

The creature hissed in agitation.

Aziraphale tried again. “You are the son of Maud and Lesley, who love you more than life itself.”

The snake relaxed its posture.

“You brought them seven years of blessed happiness.”

The snake slid forward.

“Then you used the magic of their love to perform three miracles and capture my heart. You gave me the greatest moment of joy in my life when you returned to your true form in my arms.”

Aziraphale felt a snout bump up against his hand.

“I lost you because of my foolish father, but I left Paradiso, escaped the evil designs of a toad and lizard, traveled through Terra di Braci, and spent hours studying magic to find you. I did not come this far only to fail you now.” The prince’s voice broke.

“Aziraphale?”

The prince felt a hand clasp his own. “Oh, Anthony!”

Overjoyed at seeing his human form again, he gathered the still weak Anthony in his arms and kissed the top of his head.

“He is MINE,” boomed a sinister voice. Anthony trembled in fear. Aziraphale felt his cool skin bristle and shift back to scales.

“No, he’s NOT!” Aziraphale roared back. “He is human. He is Anthony. He is the son of Maud and Lesley. He is my betrothed. And he is LOVED!”

The scales faded away, and Anthony felt warm again in his arms.

“This is not over,” growled the faceless voice before Aziraphale was blinded by a brilliant light and then plunged back into darkness. He clutched Anthony’s hand tightly as sleep again overtook him.


	6. Happily ever after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony and Aziraphale encounter a final trial on the road to happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas, writing in the time of COVID is an unpredictable thing. At long last, Aziraphale and Anthony get the end of their tale; I’m sorry for the delays. Thank you everyone for the kind words and encouragement.
> 
> Many thanks to the fantastic @LeilaKalomi and @Liquid_Lyrium for betaing.

“There’s not much amber left. What do we do?” Anathema waved her hands with no purpose but to discharge her growing anxiety.

“Patience, dearie,” replied Tracy with more confidence than she felt.

Aziraphale tried to decipher the voices, but all sound was muffled, as if he were underwater. Suddenly, a searing pain around his wrist commanded all of his limited consciousness. As the final wisp of pine-scented smoke rose from the last amber pip, the cord burst into flames. The silken threads shrank and slowly turned to dark ash. 

“Anathema! Oh goodness, their hands. Get some water!”

Aziraphale tried to move, to escape the pain, but his limbs would not obey. The exhausted prince slipped from his stool and collapsed on the floor. 

Anathema returned with cold water and strips of cloth. Together Anathema and Tracy tended to the matching brands on Aziraphale and Anthony. They tried in vain to rouse the young men. A cot was fetched, and they moved “Iaso” to the other side of the room. The two women took turns sitting vigil all day and into the night till they fell asleep next to their charges.

The next morning, Anathema woke to a quiet moan. She bolted upright as she saw Anthony open his eyes.

“Azira...?” rasped Anthony as he blinked rapidly to focus his eyes.

“It’s Anathema, dear cousin! Tracy, he’s awake!”

Anthony struggled to sit upright then gratefully accepted a cup of water from Tracy.

“What happened?” whispered Anthony.

“You were under a dark enchantment, but you’re free now! We thought we lost you when the darkness fell!” Anathema explained breathlessly.

Tracy kissed his cheek in heartfelt relief. “You have your cousin and a very brave healer to thank. You must know him, for Iaso looks at you with such love and affection.”

“Iaso? I don’t know anyone of that name.” Anthony’s disorientation shifted to fear that the memory of his dear prince rescuing him was but a dream. 

Tracy mirrored his confusion. “I was so sure you knew Iaso.” 

He shifted and whimpered at the raw pain along his wrist. The fresh blisters covered a serpentine brand. “I don’t remember hurting my hand,” he hissed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve made a mistake, dear cousin. Spells like these require powerful magic, the kind that only love can create. I’m afraid a side effect of this spell is that you are bound to Iaso. He has a matching brand, a magical handfasting. I was so sure of his love for you.”

Anthony’s joy at returning to his true form shattered at Tracy’s words. How could he forsake Aziraphale?

“I am betrothed to another, cousins. I cannot… How can I…” Anthony choked as he struggled to explain his heartbreak. “I cannot go back from my word and be faithless to him whom I love.”

The women looked on with great pity as Anthony wept in prostrate grief. His sorrow was so great that none noticed the soft moans coming from across the room. Aziraphale struggled to rise. Completely disoriented and fearful he was in danger yet again, he pushed against the cot to stand and yelped at the fiery burn around his wrist, drawing the attention of the three cousins.

“Oh, poor Iaso!” said Anathema.

“Stay there. I’m coming, dearie,” soothed Tracy.

“Aziraphale!” exclaimed Anthony.

For the rest of his life, the prince would regard Anthony calling his name at that moment as the most beautiful sound he ever heard.

“Aziraphale? The crown prince of Paradiso?” asked Anathema while Tracy laughed in delight, having quickly divined the prince’s minor deceit.

“I knew the love between you was true!” Tracy crowed and then rushed to help Aziraphale stagger to Anthony’s side.

“Oh, my dearest,” murmured Aziraphale as he cupped Anthony’s face and gently swept the tears from the corners of his still amber eyes.

Anthony looked at Aziraphale in disbelief. “You came for me?”

“I will always come for you, my love. I told you in the garden that I am yours. Nothing can ever change that,” promised Aziraphale.

Tracy tutted. “Dearhearts, loath as I am to break up this intimate moment, I must insist you both rest. Anathema, help me move Aziraphale’s cot next to Anthony. Then we can bring you something to eat.”

When Tracy returned with a tray, she found them both fast asleep, the cot empty, and the prince nestled tightly against Anthony in the small bed. 

The next morning, the two awoke to warm sunlight and the sound of birdsong through the window. Each was content to bask in the quiet comfort of the other’s presence. Eventually, Anthony shifted to face Aziraphale and took a deep breath.

“I can remember more now,” Anthony said cautiously, testing the words to see if they would hurt. Aziraphale squeezed his hand in encouragement. Anthony closed his eyes, letting the freshly recovered memories flow.

“I always loved seeing the stars. Natural for a seafaring family, I suppose. I wondered if they would look different if I could get closer to them. My tutor dared me to climb the mountain to see. Dagon was smart but a bully. She told me that I was a coward if I didn’t climb the mountain, and I took the bait. She insisted on coming along to see herself.

“We set out early the next morning. We took a brief repast in a village in the foothills and resumed the climb. As we moved to the steeper terrain, the Darkness fell. Even Dagon was unnerved. We agreed that we should return to the village. We knew not what evil was coming. By the time we reached the village the Dark Lord’s men were killing all who resisted and burning their homes, bodies still in them. Then it started to rain, and smoke obscured everything.”

Anthony shuddered as he gathered strength for the rest of his tale. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Anthony and waited patiently.

“The next thing I remember was pain, like every bone in my body had broken. I didn’t know I had become a snake. I just knew I was cold, and the rain kept falling harder and harder. The Dark Lord said we could join him or die as animals. That was when I understood what I had become. I tried to run, but I didn’t know how to slither. The next moment, I was rushing down the mountain in a rivulet. My humanity was slipping away, replaced with only a desperate desire to survive. Somehow, I freed myself from the water and sought shelter under some fallen branches. Father scooped me up in that wood, and I fell asleep in the cart. 

“When he arrived home, I was almost entirely serpent. Then, Mother picked me up and spoke kindly to me. Thought returned as she and Father moved me to the house. Then their love touched me, and my speech returned. I believe their love reclaimed enough of my humanity to give me the power of thought and speech.”

“Oh, you are right, dearest. The fly told me that the Dark Lord turned everyone to animals, but only the ones who swore allegiance to him were given dominion over their animal bodies. All others died in their animal form. You are the only one, evidently, who escaped and survived. Your dear cousins assumed you had perished like so many others that day. Maud and Lesley’s love undid the dark magic, or at least some of it.” Aziraphale looked away uncomfortably. “I’m afraid the Dark Lord only knows about you now because of my father’s ridiculous three tasks. I’m so sorry, Anthony.”

“Don’t be. If he had refused me outright, we would not be here together.”

“Do you wish to stay in Fieramaggio? With your family?”

“My mother set sail before I could walk and never returned. Visitors would occasionally have stories of her, but no one has seen her since then. I never met my father. I am grateful to my cousins, but I do not wish to be so far from my true Mother and Father. They need me. It has been so long since Fieramaggio was home.”

Although Aziraphale had known only one home, he would gladly have stayed in Fieramaggio had his love so desired. He doubted his parents had much need for him. “Then we shall return to Paradiso?”

“Yes, my prince. If you would like that as well.”

Aziraphale rewarded Anthony with a smile and kiss on his forehead. “Then it’s settled. We shall return when you are well enough.”

The pair spent a happy week with Anthony’s cousins. At the end of the week, Anthony’s strength had returned, and he felt at home again in his human body. Early on the morning of the seventh day, the cousins tearfully bid goodbye to Anthony and Aziraphale. They set out on a quick pace, intending to reach the bridge to Paradiso before nightfall.

As the sun began to set, they could hear the river and knew the bridge was near. They hurried along the path, eager to cross safely into the kingdom.

Before they reached their goal, a loud clap of thunder shook the very earth. 

“I said this was not over.” The sinister voice was unmistakably the same from Aziraphale’s spell-clouded memory.

Aziraphale and Anthony cast about for the source of the ominous words. Then a dark figure materialized before them. Aziraphale drew his sword with one hand and pushed Anthony behind him with the other.

“And I said he is not yours,” growled Aziraphale, almost glowing with righteous fury.

“Silly boy. Do you think something so mundane as a sword can hurt me?” growled the Dark Lord. His mocking laughter was soon accompanied by the taunting buzz of the familiar fly. The ground continued to shake as the laughter turned from derisive to menacing.

“I won’t let you hurt him again!” the prince shouted back.

Without warning, the figure gestured toward the prince, and an invisible force threw Aziraphale back several feet.

“Aziraphale!” Anthony raced to the groaning prince. As he pulled him to his feet, their branded wrists crossed, and the sword erupted in flames.

“Impossible!” shrieked the Dark Lord.

Sensing their adversary’s loss of confidence, Aziraphale charged at him. The dark figure screamed as the sword reached his chest. In a moment, a dark mist replaced the shadowy being. Only the fly remained. Aziraphale swung the sword toward her, and she, too, retreated. He then turned back to a stunned Anthony.

“How did you do that?” gasped Anthony.

“Not sure really. It’s never flamed before. I assumed the name was metaphorical. Imagine the magical handfasting had something to do with it?” He shook the sword and the flames extinguished. “I think we should make haste to the bridge. I imagine he is only injured, not destroyed.”

Aziraphale took Anthony’s hand and they ran the rest of the way to the river. Crossing into Paradiso winded and exhausted, they sprawled onto the soft ground under a tree by the side of the road.

They lay in silence, as their breaths steadied and their nerves calmed from the battle. Aziraphale recalled the uncertainty he had felt standing in the same spot a week ago. The world had seemed so big and his quest so uncertain. Now all of the noise had been distilled down to the again man-shaped being by his side. He squeezed the hand he had not released since their victory over the Dark Lord. “Press on or rest till morning, darling?”

“Still not used to having legs again,” mumbled Anthony drowsily.

Aziraphale rolled closer and spread his cloak over them. Before he managed a reply, they had both nodded off.

The next morning, they woke refreshed and eager to complete the last leg of their journey. By the time they were approaching Maud and Lesley’s cottage, the sun was starting to set. Anthony could hear Maud preparing dinner. He motioned for Aziraphale to wait, and he slowly pushed the familiar door open.

“Anthony!” exclaimed Maud as she set eyes on the lovely red-headed young man for the first time.

“Mother!” Anthony rushed to Maud and embraced her tightly. “How did you know it was me?”

“Oh, Anthony, how could I not?” she laughed as happy tears streamed down her face.

Outside, Lesley was just arriving in his cart. Excitement and fear mingled in his voice as he recognized the blond man standing outside the cottage. “Prince Aziraphale! Do you have news of my son?”

Aziraphale turned toward Lesley, the joy writ plainly upon his face. Lesley exhaled in relief.

“He’s inside, friend.” Aziraphale pointed toward the cottage and then considered the handfasting scars on the gesturing hand. “Or should I say Father?”

Lesley threw his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder and ushered the prince into the cottage to join his son and wife in their gladness. The four held each other tightly for several minutes until Maud and Lesley were certain they were not dreaming. They then gathered around the fireplace where they enjoyed dinner while Anthony told them the amazing tale of two rescues: how they had tamed the darkest of magic on the day they found him and how Prince Aziraphale had valiantly fought the Dark Lord for him not once but twice. 

Eventually sated on food, wine, laughter, and love, they all retired. As his bed was better suited to one snake than two men, Anthony gathered several blankets and took Aziraphale to the barn loft. Nestled between Queen posts and bales of hay, the two looked out the gable window at the clear night sky.

“This is better,” murmured Anthony, lifting Aziraphale’s hand and kissing each knuckle.

Aziraphale sighed softly into the gentle touches. “Better than what, darling?”

“Better than climbing a mountain,” whispered Anthony. “The stars are brighter with you.”

“Oh, dearest, I do believe everything is brighter with you.” Tucking a long strand of red hair behind Anthony’s ear, Aziraphale cupped Anthony’s chin to tilt his face toward his own and finally captured his mouth in a gentle kiss. “And more magical.”

Anthony wove his fingers through Aziraphale’s blond curls and kissed his resounding agreement.

**FINIS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So concludes our tale. Love is magic. Wishing you all someone who finds you as magical as these two find each other!

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @LeilaKalomi and @Liquid_Lyrium for brainstorming and betaing.
> 
> Source material:  
> https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/lfb/gn/gnfb20.htm


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